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Tuesday, 8 February 2011

CROSSING PLACES and boundaries are the habitation of fascination for me. The not-quite-one-nor-the-other is a chancy and magical place, where in-between sorts of people wander, outcasts and wisdom keepers, and left over thoughts blow past. Here on these thresholds between times and spaces: the water's edge, the way into the forest, the twilight hour or the dawning, doorways, openings, turning points in years and lives, you'll find the something that you sometimes remember you were looking for, and then forget again.

A grey February stage curtain lifted to reveal the Theatre of Spring, or at least a Master of Ceremonies to announce the programme. But the smell of things has certainly changed, there's whispering in the wings: cast members in costume, and ready to perform. Even on cold days there's promise on the wind, and the days are lengthening again noticeably, like cats stretching after a long winter's nap.

We walked the other day in a nearby deer park where the wind nipped our ears and ran off, followed closely by Macha, hard on its blustery tail. Here we found the crossing places between many things. A tree and a rock were swallowing each other, like that rock-paper-scissors hand game, but I don't know who begun it and I don't know who'll win it. For in the slowest of slow motions, they are grasping each other, describing the edge of things, not one, not the other. In-between.

The woods were beautiful. Green and Grey, like that old New Model Army song I loved as a youngster. Wood and stone all knitted with moss, and knotted together the rocks and the trees made caves. So I went in.

And I looked out through a triangle of tree and rock

At the green-and-grey tapestry across the February sky.

And in the filtered morning light, of a sky of not-quite-any-colour, we examined the moss that covered the granite. It seemed to me a map of another place, spring-green moss lands and grey-blue stone sea.

This is Nature's piebald cipher, her message in green ink telling us Imbolc promises on the hard grey stone of Winter's End.

And in this photograph of Tom's, the stone is blue as a blue blue sea!

The dark branches, strong and knuckled as an old ferryman's arms, stood black against the white sky, and in the grey, I collected pictures.

And at the edge of a pool under a tree, we found a wondrous nest of life waiting: Frog spawn! (which when I was a child, I'm sure was all one word: Frogspawn!)

Such an incredible pudding of baby not-yet-frogs! Black specks suspended in springy jelly marbles, like an eye watching for the right time to leap, or the black dot of yin in yang. And aren't frogs little leaping exemplars of the liminal? Spending tadpole-time as they do, not quite one nor the other.

I'm always amazed that frog spawn in a pool know how much space there is and so only as many as will fit as frogs in the pool will hatch, the rest waiting til that lot leave home before emerging.

Macha has been looking for treasure at the water's edge too lately, but this was the river, not the frogs' birthing pool, thank goodness. She hasn't told us what she found there yet.

Wandering in the woods hasn't been our sole occupation! There's been industrious creating and planning of projects going on. And we've been having conversations about the borderlands of the creative mind too. Whilst making a painting, part of you inhabits this peripheral place, and must make unending this-way-that-way decisions to steer your artist's ship. Somehow you must balance along an internal tightrope whilst you make your work. On one side of this rope is a quick-sand of doubt and self-criticism, refracted through many different imagined lenses. On the other, a lava-pit of overdoing it, killing the work by pressing too hard with your metaphorical pencil. These two-sided danger pits have many names of course, but not tipping into them is a constant effort of balance and bravery.This innate navigational tool is, I believe, put to use in many areas of life, not just art, and it has an awful lot to do with trusting your gut and sifting wheat from chaff.

And we've been out in the world with projects too! I've had a good selection of my original work framed at long last, so the work is no longer languishing in the bottoms of drawers and the backs of folders, but hanging on the walls of a local wholefood cafe!

For all of February a selection of my original paintings and prints is on display at the wonderful Courtyard Cafe, at 76 The Square, Chagford. It's a warm and friendly gathering place this, where teas and cakes and delicious fare are cooked and served and sold.

Here it is by day and by night (and ten points to anyone who can spot Tom reading Science Fiction in the corner!)

My paintings jostle for space in the corner above customers' heads. And if you are passing through the West Country and fancy a cuppa, or a painting, please do stop by and look.

As for leatherworker Tom, his projects took us on a trip to the last remaining oak bark tannery in the UK: J & FJ Baker & Co, in Colyton, East Devon. He was after leather you see.. to make masks (about which more tales shall follow in due course). It was a wonderful place, all rickety wooden staircases, and hanging hides, and old machinery, and sheds of vats in the floor, and smells, and interesting old men. We came away with four "bellies" and another handsome hide.

We have even ventured in the last few weeks to the Capital City, to see my family. While we were there, we took a train "up to London" as they say when you live on the edge of it. And then we took a bus to the Victoria & Albert Museum to look at magnificent Chinese Robes from the Qing Dynasty. But my attention was particularly caught by this exquisite sculpture in the South-East Asian section of the museum, where we lingered long. She is Sitatara, made from painted, gilded and bejewelled copper in 14th Century Nepal.

This excellent photograph above was taken by Peter Rivera on Flickr, those below are my paltry attempts on a grey day through museum glass. But Oh! She was beautiful.

Tara is a Buddhist Goddess of compassion who is depicted in various forms. She, the White Tara, is said to have been born from the compassionate tears of Avalokiteshvara, the Lord of the World, as he gazed upon the suffering of humanity. She is peace and purity, she is the motivation that is compassion, and the undifferentiated Truth of the Dharma. Tara is often shown (as in this sculpture) with seven eyes - in addition to her two natural eyes, there are four on the palms of her hands and soles of her feet, and one in the middle of her forehead as "third eye". Tara of Seven Eyes is the most common form of the Goddess depicted in Mongolia, and her seven eyes are said to represent her vigilance in compassion and perception of suffering: in the every day (natural eyes), in activity (hands), in progress (feet) and in the spiritual (forehead). Tara is referred to as the Mother of all Buddhas, she is called upon in times of adversity, and for help in overcoming obstacles. The Sanskrit root of her name is tar- "to cross [over]", meaning that the deity serves as a bridge, helping one to cross the Ocean of Existence. Links have been made between her name and the word terra, and even an ancient Finnish Goddess Tar. The word can also mean "tree" or "star" and even "the pupil of the eye".

And what better gem to end with there than the Crossing-Place Eye of our dear hound? Have you ever seen such a strange and outlandish gaze? Through her left eye, Macha looks constantly across a boundary, seeing the light in the dark and the dark in the light. I imagine she sees chancy things in the corners of rooms too, which might account for her nervousness.I leave you with an earnest wish for light growing in the dark like a speck in frogspawn, as Spring awakens, and Tara's hand in the crossing over.

That post was absolutely amazing. I didn't know about Tara, and I love your mossy wooded places. Crossing places and in-betweens... they have always fascinated me, too. Part of why I love your blog, and your work, so very very much. Thank you for sharing (so those of us from across the globe can be touched by your spark as well).

Hello RimaThanks for sharing your wonderful goings on. What a magical place Dartmoor is. The mossy woods are just out of a fairytale and Macha looks as if he has also stepped out of the same pages too. :) And what a cosy cafe. I'm sure many people will be buying more than just coffee or hot chocolate now. x

I've really enjoyed reading this post so full of the promise of spring and growing things...What a wonderful wild place Dartmoor is...I would love to visit that Cafe and see your paintings, they've been beautifully displayed.Hope you enjoy your upcoming creative projects!Carrie :)

i wonder at the old trees and lichens, and the baby frogspawn and that amazing eye. all marvels. my border collie has serious eyes. but the trees out back here look like frisky teens compared to your wise ones. my children used to ride on a low slung branch of grandfather sugar maple out back, who has long since gone back to the land. i had a lovely walk through your story tonight.

Your post - your words, your photos, your world - are magical. I could lose myself for years in your mossy woods. I would like nothing more than to have a cup of coffee and look at your pictures on the wall, trying to choose which one to take home with me. Alas, there is an ocean between us. Thank goodness for the internet, and for your lovely posts.

What a wonderful post of crossing places and between things! I love it when the earth begins to awaken from its winter's sleep! Your art work is so beautiful on the cafe walls. Love the photos of the tree/rock cave and the frogspawn and of course of Tara and Macha's amazing eye!!! It is always such a delight to visit you! Happy almost springtime!

What a magical life you lead. Thank you for sharing it. What wonderful gnarledy trees. I can't get a feel for Macha's size. Is she a deerhound, lurcher, wolfhound? I think she may have impaired vision in her "two-tone" eye. Does she see at all on that side? Lack of or poor vision on that side may be the root of her nervousness. Does Tom ever do any tooling on leather?

I was reminded of stepping inside a big hollow Beech tree and looking up at the sky. But today my thoughts have been under water. Like this:

I was sitting along a river bank quite hypnotized by spinning autumn leaves falling into the water, floating awhile, and then disappearing. Where did they go? I assume there are microorganisms that feed on the energy of these leaves. And maybe somewhat bigger organisms feed on both these microorganisms and whatever is left of the leaf. And then there are these somewhat bigger organisms that wait their turn. And then there are larger stream feeding creatures that turn their faces or their tentacles into the stream and simply catch whatever nutrients the current happens to parade by. Then, the big fish come along, and eat them. Somehow, it seems that the internet cyber-world is like this too. Information flows like a river or stream. We feed on it. And others feed on us. Everything flows. Blood and money, too. In the body, when there are issues of flow, we suffer. A society's economy gets clogged arteries too. When rivers, bodies, money don't flow, we get: Ecological problems. Physical problems. Economic problems, and Psychological problems. 'Going with the flow' is not a position of passivity, it is more a matter of an activist position of getting in step with the universal project.

Holy moly. What a post. I take some of your words and pictures for my own journal as you articulate these in between existences better than I could.

And my eyes started fluttering when you wrote about Tar and the other Goddesses of transition. For I'd named a character who crosses over, Tarn, 17 years ago without knowing or finding these meanings before you mentioned it.

Macha's eye is astoundingly beautiful. Her gaze is like your own to me.

I went for a stroll to see what Tom had been up to lately... and of course dear Macha :~) and it lead me here... what a wonderful place...I feel I have fallen down the rabbit hole of amazing wonder so much to see, to explore... and now it is time for bed... I shall catch up and drift through more next time... I love you view on your world :~)

jess said... I wish I had something worthwhile to add... but I need to let the words sink in. But the pictures, those are the kinds of places I always dreamed of finding. Secret, beautiful, wise places.

Jess, secret, beautiful, wise places are all around you. You only need to open your mind.....

Rima - I think that Green Tara (Khadiravani ) has had more than a hand in shaping your life. Peace be on your house and home

what a wonderful post, how lovely to have your paintings on show in the cafe! And such a beautiful area of woodland. I too love the in between times and places, and an enjoying winter fading as spring sneaks in...

I hope that you didn't have to take out a mortguage to buy your train tickets... Booked early I hope.. So expensive these days.. Oh no! I sound like an old person...Ahhh!

Your exhibition looks so good and what a lovely place to show your work I'm sure that you will sell plenty and that the cafe will be busy too with all the people coming to see your exhibition... A win, win situation... All good, just wish I lived a little nearer.

Another magical post Rima - those ancient woodlands with their wonderful textures are amazing. I would half expect the characters from Tolkien to appear. Even here, in almost suburbia, I sense the turning of the season and will look again for signs of frogspawn in our pond. What a treat to have a meal while surrounded by your stunning art. Even Macha has a magic eye, and good luck to Tom with his leather work.

This is a really interesting and inspiring post.I enjoy following you blog and enjoy the occasional visit to Chagford usually on our way from Truro to London to visit my Mum.We have lubch at the cafe where your work is now hanging so that will be a treat next time. I have also followed Terri Windling's equally fascinating blog. I am fairly new ti blogging myself but you can find me at www.joyforever01.blogspot.com if you want to see how I am getting on!My life has been spent with books which are my passion and I have worked in libraries all my life.I love to be enchanted and your blog fits the bill All the best Angela

I loved coming on a journey with you to one of my favourite magical places. Dartmoor holds a piece of my heart. That is one lot of paintings in the cafe! I'm going to Devon soon, I hope I get a chance to pop over to Chagford for a visual treat!xx :)

Hi Rima,Thank you for putting into words the way I feel about nature and the things I see on my travels, I exclaimed to a friend since I found your blog 'I have found my people' so you see you have made a profound difference to my life, and through your blog many others who feel, think and act in a way that resonates with me, and in turn made me feel not so alone in my thinking, feeling and being.I have looked forward to this new post, its a feast for the eyes and soul.

Seeing that forest, it is easy to see where you draw your inspiration from. All those convoluted tree shapes and rocks are beings in their own right and, if you keep still, will speak to you and stroke your hair.

The first part of this post about the forest, you could print as a book and people would treasure it. At least I would.

i'm in the midst of an endless and often difficult in-between, so i will carry off three gifts from your post to aid me: 1) little almost-frog-eyes staring out from a sea of marbled goo, 2) a crafty, fearless face welcoming between moss and rock, photographed by a loving eye! and 3) compassion Herself. so many thanks!!

Oh the fascination of the liminal spaces! I find them endlessly exciting...for all our efforts to create borders and boundaries between...well, them and us, or that and us, or nature and us, between that person and me...it's all an illusion, as science confirms now, we are all just bundles of energy interacting all the time, our 'borders' are not borders at all, but fuzzy spaces where we co-mingle with the rest of creation, our edges are blurry and nothing is perfectly defined! The edges of things are always leaky, and that's where the most exciting things happen! It's an idea I come back to again and again.

Hello Rima, I love your blog, it's completely beautiful. I enjoyed seeing your pictures of frog spawn. When I was little I had a bit of an obsession with frog spawn and would collect it and keep it in a tank of water and watch the tadpoles change to frogs, then let them all go back into the pond. One year I slipped and fell in the pond while I was trying to collect the frog spawn and ended up swallowing a whole load of it! It didn't put me off though. Came home wet but still had dome frog spawn with me. Now I leave the frog spawn where it is and don't disturb it but as a 7 year old it was irresistible! Em xxx

My sister has heterochromia - one eye the hazel of sunshine through a spring forest and the other the deep brown of rich earth.

My whole life I've been trying to write a poem about how my sister has one eye to see darkness and one to see light. It keeps getting mixed up with the OTHER poem about her birthday on the summer solstice and mine on the winter solstice.

The words and images are swirling in my head too, like many people say here in response. I think these liminal spaces are full of wonder and new ideas waiting to be born, and yet the oldest deepest roots of the world. Maybe they are the truest picture of life creating, yearning and curious...lovely pictures that extend your beautiful words! I'm so glad to see your pictures framed and on display at that cozy cafe that fits your artwork! Maybe some day I will visit the West Country again...many happy returns of the day! Good luck with your current projects!

Hello Rima, your blog is just so beautiful and all those wonderful trees and rocks and lichen, I love lichen. The best thing is there is always so much to look at and take in that I can keep coming back. I always learn so much from your magic words, not to mention your drawings. Blessings on you all. Oh and I like seeing that I was the only 1 from Australia visiting just then,

My husband's eye is like your dear hound's; blue with a quarter brown and just in the one. I love it. Hubby's is not this extreme a blue, but Norwegian blue all the same. His brother, Erroll has it, also. This post was magic and every bit savored. Oh to go to the West Country. ahh... Thanks dear one.

Beautiful to see things through your lens - thank you for sharing. Here, it's still snowy, snowy winter. Whilst beautiful (and I'm not eager yet for it to end), I do love the in betweens of the seasons. Your blog provides an enchanting getaway. blessings, j

I so enjoy your posts. This one was one of my favourites. I could almost feel like I was in the woods with you and your beautiful dog. I love the photos of you in the triangle hole. I would so love to be able to visit that cafe. Have a cup of tea and spend some hours looking at your amazing pictures.

So much inspiration in this post! That view from that triangle reminds me so much of your art. And that art transforms that little cafe into a magical place indeed. I cannot wait to see more of the masks. And, as I'm heading to London this week, spelunking for inspiration that the grey skies of Georgia are lacking at the moment, I do appreciate the V&A suggestions.

Dear Rima-Last autumn,I drove by, what I recognised from your blog, as the window across your road! I loved Chagford and intend to stop at The Courtyard Cafe this May when I am there-hope your work is still hanging!! Loved this last post-you capture the West Country Magic in photo and word.....Carletta

Frogspawn IS one word!! Or at least, it is when folks call me Frogspawn... my mum gave me the nickname when I was young "Frogspawn Bourne". Perhaps it's due to her love of frogs & toads, and because of my webbed feet? Maybe, maybe.

Love every bit of this post Rima, from walking in the woods where rocks and trees play out their timeless dramas, to frogs' eggs waiting to hatch, drawings hanging in a café (how I'd love to get there !) and on and on to leather shops and even London. Was in London too recently, but only for a couple of days, stayed near the V&A museum. Would like to think I almost crossed paths with you.

Although I don't like to do self-publicity, and almost never do so, given your penchant for woodlands walks, and the spirits in rocks, I think you might enjoy seeing photos of a place my wife (la grenouille) and I visited this week, in the woods north of Paris, some very remarkable artworks carved into large rock surfaces... you can see them here :

Dear Rima,I'm following your beautiful paintings and writings since a long time. What struck me most in your last posting was the eye of your hound. I've got a Border Husky puppy with exactly the same eye configuration! She's not holding still enough for me to take a picture of her eye, but I'll give it a try and send one in the next days. Holly, my puppy, youngest in our sleddog team, got her name when I was making a drum journey to Mother Holle, one of my favourite goddesses - and I came back with the name "Holly" for the sweet pup!Loads of blessings to you, and please continue your wonderful blog!Johanna

Rima, I have no words to tell you what your wonderful blog means to me. Since the time I lived in Devon, I try to keep track from afar. And your blog, as well as Terri Windling's, are the most magical places of contact on the whole wide web. Thank you!

If all goes well, I will be back for a brief visit at the end of March. Such a pity I shall just about miss your exhibition - I would have loved to see your pictures!

About Me

Rima Staines is an artist using paint, wood, word, music, animation, clock-making, puppetry & story to attempt to build a gate through the hedge that grows along the boundary between this world & that. Her gate-building has been a lifelong pursuit, & she hopes to have perhaps propped aside even one spiked loop of bramble (leaving a chink just big enough for a mud-kneeling, trusting eye to glimpse the beauty there beyond), before she goes through herself.

Always stubborn about living the things that make her heart sing, Rima’s houses have a tendency to be wheeled. She currently dwells in an old cottage on top of a hill on the edge of Dartmoor with her beloved, Tom, & their big-hearted, ice-eyed lurcher, Macha.

Rima’s inspirations include the world & language of folktale; faces of people who pass her on the street; folk music & art of Old Europe & beyond; peasant & nomadic living; magics of every feather; wilderness & plant-lore; the margins of thought, experience, community & spirituality; & the beauty in otherness.

Crumbs fall from Rima’s threadbare coat pockets as she travels, & can be found collected here, where you may join the caravan.